


Junior Year

by TheDangerAddict



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, F/M, Fem! Jack, Fluff and Angst, M/M, TW; abusive parent, TW; feelings of worthlessness and depression as well as anxiety, TW; not so good decisions, TW; probably some mild violence, jeremwood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:01:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23313556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDangerAddict/pseuds/TheDangerAddict
Summary: Junior year is supposed to be fun, but Ryan Haywood can’t say that he’s having much fun— that is until he meets Jeremy Dooley.
Relationships: Gavin Free/Meg Turney, Jack Pattillo/Geoff Ramsey, Jeremy Dooley/Ryan Haywood, Lindsay Tuggey Jones/Michael Jones
Comments: 9
Kudos: 16





	Junior Year

**Author's Note:**

> hi hello. just a disclaimer. this is a work of complete and utter fiction. do not read it as anything but.

August 5th - Entry #1

I guess this is what I'm supposed to do. Write, I mean. Allison says it should be beneficial to my mental health all things considered. Geoff invited me to his house. He's throwing a last week of summer party but I don't think I'll go. Jack's sick and I don't trust Geoff to not get distracted all things considered. I'm okay though. I'll probably just stay in and sleep, maybe read something.

***

Ryan snapped the journal shut, tossing the black ink pen towards his desk, following the movement as it fell short, plopping into the beige carpet that encompassed his bedroom floor, but making no move to retrieve it. Instead, his eyes fell to the journal in his lap. That familiar heavy feeling in his chest still abysmally present, pressing in on his rib cage in a failed attempt to keep his heart from speeding itself into an early grave. Shoving the journal beneath his pillow, the blonde sighed, falling back into the old, lumpy bed he called his own, tired eyes finding the off white ceiling of the bedroom he called his own. It was easy to get lost in the shapes and faces his sleep deprived brain insisted upon finding in the texture of the paint, especially when doing anything more than that seemed to tire him faster than any marathon could.

He didn't know how long had passed when the door to his room slammed against the wall, effectively startling him from his daze. Shoulders tense, he sat up straight, anxious eyes moving to find the reason for such an entrance. His father looked annoyed, reading glasses moved to rest in his dark blonde hair, the same as Ryan's with the exception of a few greying streaks. 

"James, you're not to lock this door. We've been over this too many times."

Ryan's eyes moved to the wall behind his father's head, lips pulling into a thin line, anything to not see that cold annoyance turned upon him, "You should've knocked."

"I did. Three times."

When Ryan continued to stare intently at the wall his father clicked his tongue and Ryan took a sharp breath, head ducking between his shoulders in what was almost a full bodied flinch, eyes suddenly finding the carpeted floor to be much more interesting than the wall, "M'sorry, Father."

The silence was unbearable, turning Ryan's hands into a tangled mess of wrongly intertwined and overlapping fingers as he continued his staring contest with the ground. There was undeniable fear in the way Ryan held himself. He could feel his father's dead, grey eyes staring right through him, picking at why it was exactly that he'd locked his door in the first place after being told time and time again that it was simply unacceptable behavior in the Haywood estate.

His father was the one to break the silence, deciding that the issue wasn't something that absolutely had to be handled that moment, "Geoffrey is downstairs. If I catch this door locked again, there will most definitely be consequences."

Ryan felt like a weight had been lifted from his chest the moment his father left, shoulders sagging in relief as he let his elbows rest on his knees and dropped his head into his hands. A close call and definitely not the first time Geoff had unintentionally, unknowingly saved his ass— he tried to steady his breathing before his best friend made it to his room, not wanting to touch the subject of his father's inclination towards physical punishment anytime soon.

It was a startling thought that Geoff would probably lie on his bed while he was here and Ryan had shoved the journal beneath his pillow. The decision was made in a split second— diving for his pillow and grabbing the journal from it's place before shoving it into his underwear drawer, finishing just in time for Geoff to enter his room.

"You alright there, bud? You look kinda out of it."

Just an inch shorter than Ryan and the oldest of their little friend group, Geoff Ramsey was not at all what he seemed. Leather jackets, graphic tees, and distressed denim jeans— even a few tattoos that only a select few knew about— he was every parent's worst nightmare, but Geoff was more than that. Ryan had known him for what felt like forever, so it always made him laugh when anyone referred to Geoff as anything but an amazing person and protective friend.

"I'm good," Ryan gave a convincing smile as Geoff moved to his bed and flopped down onto it, snatching his pillow up and setting it against the wall so that he could lean back against it, "What are you doing here? Don't you have a party to set up and host?"

"Yup," He popped the p as he looked around Ryan's room, eyes narrowed just slightly as if he was thinking something over.

Ryan gave him a quizzical look, eyebrow raised, "So..?"

Geoff's eyes snapped right back to Ryan and he grinned. Ryan's gut dropped. He knew that shit-eating smile too well.

"You're coming."

"Geoff, no," Ryan crossed his arms as if that would do anything to deflect the pleas he knew were coming.

"Come on, it's the last week of summer, dude."

"And?"

"And you never go out! Please?" Geoff pleaded.

"No," Ryan rolled his eyes.

The smile on Geoff's face dropped into a small frown, eyes becoming pleading, "Ryannn, please. It'd mean a lot if you went."

Ryan glared at Geoff, but there was no actual heat behind it, despite the manipulation they both knew Geoff had just employed. They both were full aware that the moment he'd said it would mean a lot was the moment Ryan stopped being able to truly say no.

"Fine."

Geoff's pouting shifted back to that grin in an instant, "Good, 'cause no wasn't an option."

"Fuck you," There was no bite behind the words.

"Love you, buddy."

Ryan rolled his eyes again, uncrossing his arms to flip his laughing friend the bird. It only made Geoff's laughter grow louder and louder until his best friend was doubled over, wheezing for air, on his bed. It brought a genuine smile to Ryan's face.

It took a bit for Geoff to actually calm down, but when he finally had, he was still wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, "So is that what you're gonna wear?"

"Well.. no, of course not."

"Cool, because I was thinking that it's about to be junior year, and you my friend, have yet to get laid," He wiggled his eyebrows at Ryan, "I'm picking your outfit."

Ryan's face went beet red and he sputtered, at a loss for words, "I— y— tha— don— I don't— Geoff!!"

If he'd had his pillow, he would've thrown it at Geoff, but he didn't, so he settled for glaring, which seemed to do nothing to the grin across Geoff's face as he stood, gently pushing past Ryan to get to Ryan's dresser. With nothing to do as Geoff ruffled through his shirt drawer, he sat on his bed where Geoff had been sitting moments earlier, crossing one leg over the other and watching Geoff sort through the various shirts he owned.

"Do you have anything in here that isn't plain?"

Ryan's silence answered for him.

Geoff gave him a look, but moved to Ryan's jeans drawer, "I'll let you borrow one of mine."

"Geoff, is this really necessary?" 

Geoff ignored his question, grinning, "Got any porn mags in here, Ry?"

"No," He scoffed. They were definitely not there. What? Was Ryan an amateur?

"Jesus, dude, how many pairs of dad jeans do you own?"

"Look, if you came here to complain about my wardrobe, then I'm not going to the party."

"Okay, okay. I'll back off— you do own a pair!" Geoff exclaimed happily as he held up the pair of distressed skinny jeans that he had bought Ryan for Christmas— the ones that Ryan specifically meant to never touch, "I knew you hadn't actually burnt them."

Ryan groaned, "Geoff— I—"

"Nope. No buts," Geoff tossed the jeans onto Ryan's bed, "And since I know what ladies like the best— I might as well pick out your underwear."

"No!" Ryan lunged forward so fast his head spun, slamming the drawer shut before Geoff could get it open farther than an inch, "I mean— you're not picking what fucking underwear I wear to your party, Geoff. Get out so I can change."

Geoff rose his eyebrows, putting his hands up in surrender, "Alright, alright. I was kidding."

Ryan gave him a look bordering on annoyance, but any irritation there was just something concocted to disguise the way his heart was hammering in his chest.

"What? I've seen you change before."

"Geoff."

"Fine. Fine."

The door shut with something close to a slam, Geoff muttering something under his breath about Ryan being no fun, but still wearing a smile. Ryan exhaled softly the moment his close friend was gone, relieved that he didn't have to explain the journal nestled in his underwear drawer. His knees ached lightly from where he'd darted to the floor in order to keep the journal away from Geoff's eyes. 

Once Ryan was stood back up to his full height, he discarded the sweatpants and boxers he'd been wearing in the dirty clothes pile the occupied one corner of his room. From there he pulled on a new pair of boxer briefs, but stopped when it came to the jeans, grimacing because he hated skinny jeans so fucking much. He'd never understood how Geoff could stand to wear them every single day. Deciding to put it off till the end, he pulled his shirt over his head, not bothering to turn it right side out before tossing it into the same pile as the previous clothes. He didn't look when he grabbed a new t-shirt from his shirt drawer, just shoving his arms into the holes and pulling it over his head. He continued getting ready from there without pants, running his hands through his hair until it was acceptable, brushing his teeth, applying deodorant. He only needed socks and shoes when he decided to finally attack the issue of pants.

"You good in there, buddy?" Geoff knocked on his door, interrupting the angry glaring Ryan was doing.

"Fine," Ryan answered, checking his watch to make sure he hadn't been longer than ten minutes.

When he looked back the pants were still there— no matter how much he wished they'd just vanish into thin air— and he let out an annoyed puff of air, resuming the action of glaring at the goddamn pants. It was inhumane, human cruelty to make him wear these. He vowed he would get back at Geoff somehow as he picked the denim jeans up, holding them away from him as if they'd contracted a deadly virus. Slipping one foot in, he retracted that thought, deciding he might actually hold them closer as long as it meant he didn't have to put them on. 

It took a fuck ton of swearing and a lot of almost falling, but eventually he got one leg in. The other wasn't much better. Putting his socks on was a walk in the park, nowhere near as difficult, and when it came to pulling on the battered black converse, it wasn't even close to being a struggle.

Ryan grimaced when he stood, finally finished, questioning why Geoff would ever wear something so very constricting, but moved to the door nonetheless, ready to go. When he opened the door, Geoff did a double take, eyes moving from Ryan to his phone and back to Ryan, wide as saucers as he drunk in the blonde's appearance.

Geoff let out a long whistle that left Ryan feeling more self-conscious that it should've, "Damn, Ryan, you're definitely going to get laid tonight."

Ryan glared, face heating up, "How the hell do you wear these?"

Geoff grinned, feigning anguish for a split second, "Beauty is pain."

Ryan rolled his eyes taking the lead in going downstairs. His footsteps were light as could be, starkly contrasting with Geoff's echoing, boot clad stomps, but Ryan's gut still twisted at the noise when they passed his father's study though he didn't dare leave without a goodbye and a full description of what his whereabouts for the afternoon would be. 

The drive to Geoff's was short, but loud with the booming wind that rolled in through Geoff's open windows and whipped through Ryan's hair, musing it until it was just as messy as Geoff's. The music wasn’t any quieter, warring for precedence in Ryan’s ears with the wind. 

Geoff's house was a bit smaller than Ryan's but nowhere near small. It was pretty too with a fenced in front yard and a sparkling, clean pool outside. Ryan hoped no one would even try jumping from the roof, but teenagers were teenagers and with the weather as warm as it was and the absence of Geoff's parents this week, the chances of someone doing so were high.

Once Ryan had changed into some rock band t-shirt with a name across the front that he didn't recognize, and Geoff had fixed Ryan's hair to his liking, Ryan and Geoff settled into a rhythm. Geoff hadn't asked for help in setting up, but Ryan gladly gave it, helping Geoff hide away anything that absolutely could not be broken and putting out all the snacks and drinks. They finished just in time for the first crowd of people to get there and Ryan, despite having spent the afternoon trading playful banter with one of his only friends, felt that familiar tightness stir in his chest, remembering the reason why he hadn't wanted to come in the first place, as Geoff moved to greet them and the others that would soon pour in after them, effectively leaving Ryan to fend for himself while Geoff's living room only grew more crowded. It took all of an hour for Ryan to lose sight of Geoff. It only took forty minutes from there for Ryan to find himself crowded off the couch, party kicking into full swing.

He could find a few familiar faces in the crowd. Burns, the captain of the varsity football team and someone who was not likely to socialize with Ryan in a million years. Michael Jones, offensive lineman on varsity and, again, someone who wasn't likely to even look in Ryan's direction— and of course where Jones went, Gavin Free followed, Gavin Free who'd most definitely called Ryan a loser sophomore year. Despite this, Geoff was nowhere to be found and Ryan was finding the loud music and overall crowdedness to be growing even more unbearable by the second, so the blonde, stood and tried to dart, more stumbled with the sheer number of attendees, between different people, thinking maybe some air would help clear his head.

Bumping into someone he didn't recognize, he turned, walking backwards and uttered an apology, "I'm so so sorry!"

He didn't realize his mistake until his heel caught against something and he stumbled backwards, falling into someone's arms. Blue eyes met dark brown and Ryan swallowed when he realized who it was, righting himself and picking up the cup Kovic had dropped in his instinctual catch of the falling blonde. He handed it back to Kovic despite the empty quality and sheepishly smiled even though all he wanted to do was run.

"That's.. my bad. I'm really truly sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going."

Ryan ducked past Kovic the moment Bruce and Lawrence arrived behind him, not wanting to continue this entire clusterfuck accident he'd just caused or hear the mutterings said accident would incite. God, why had he come in the first place? Oh, that's right. Geoff.

"Hey, Haywood, catch!" Ryan had almost made it outside when the cold liquid hit his back.

He froze. The music was too loud. The people were to loud. His thoughts were too loud. Everything was too loud and maybe it was because he imagined it was Geoff— or maybe it was because Ryan was too tired to think properly, but he turned and threw his middle finger up at Lawrence, "Fuck off, dickwad.”

Then he slammed the front door behind him as he walked out.

The moment the door was shut Ryan begun to fast walk towards the side of Geoff's house, keenly aware that he'd just called someone far above him in the social food chain a dickwad in front of a ton of people. The door slammed open just in time for Ryan to round the corner.

"Fucking pretty boy fag thinks he's so cool now that he's dressing like a normal person."

Ryan swallowed around the lump in his throat, flinching at the slur and pressing himself harder against the wall as if that might somehow make him less visible.

"Haywood! Come on out and maybe we'll let you off the hook with just one good hit," That was Kovic.

Stupid— How could he be so stupid?! What the actual fuck was he thinking?! Ryan screwed his eyes shut, listening to the footsteps grow nearer his hiding spot.

"Hey, dude, come here," Someone whisper yelled from Ryan's right.

Ryan's head snapped in the direction, eyes flying open to see his knight in shining armor. Dark brown hair and soft, dark brown eyes coupled with a welcoming smile. It was the guy Ryan had bumped into earlier. He stared at the unfamiliar face for a second, hesitating.

"Dude, I'm new here, but I have a basic understanding of what's about to happen to you if you don't get over here, come on," The new guy held out his hand.

Ryan moved, taking the guy's hand and letting him help him through the window back into Geoff's house. The beer on the shirt Geoff had lent him was starting to smell, already sticking the shirt to his back in an uncomfortable manner. Startlingly, Ryan realized they were in the downstairs bathroom and let out a puff of air in the place of a laugh. Up close he could see just how short the guy was.

"Haywood, right?" New guy tilted his head in an almost dog-like manner.

Ryan shook his head, "Uh.. yeah, but.. just call me Ryan."

"Nice— Jeremy Dooley," The new guy introduced himself, "You wanna maybe go. I don't know if you have a ride home, but I could give you one?" 

"Thanks, but I'll pass," Ryan held up a hand, finding the thought of any further human interaction that wasn't necessary rather repulsive in that moment.

Jeremy smiled in response to that, "Okay, well, next time.. just let me know."

That got awkward real fucking quick. 

Wanting nothing more than to escape the weird energy of the bathroom, Ryan made to open the door, but a hand blocked him before he could.

"Wait," Jeremy slipped from his jacket, "Here."

Ryan looked down at the jacket, "Uhh... What?"

"Well.. your shirt is kinda.." Jeremy shrugged, "Nice shirt by the way."

Ryan huffed, a small smile playing at his lips, "I have an extra shirt here, I'll be fine."

"You sure? Why do you have an extra shirt here?"

"Yeah, I'm friends with the owner," The word friends came out harsher than Ryan meant it.

"You should probably still take the hoodie. You stick out like a sore thumb," Jeremy pushed the hoodie into Ryan's hands.

Ryan could feel his face heat, but hid it by busying himself with the action of pulling the hoodie over his head, wondering what exactly that was supposed to mean,”I mean— thanks, thank you, I really really appreciate y— I really appreciate this."

"No problem, dude," Jeremy nodded, "Good luck out there."

Slipping from the bathroom, hood pulled up over his head, Ryan couldn't help the dorky smile that fought it's way onto his face. Getting out was going to be harder than getting in, but with his head down and hood up, he slipped upstairs and into Geoff's bedroom, something he'd done countless times growing up. He hadn't expected to find Geoff shoving his tongue down some redhead's throat.

"Oh— what the fuck, Geoff,” The smile dropped from his face.

Geoff startled, shoving away from the woman, who shared enough features with Jack Patillo that Ryan almost rolled his eyes, "What do you mean what the fuck? You’re in my room.”

"I just— Nothing, never mind, Geoff. I need my shirt."

Geoff stood, smoothing his clothes out, "Just keep that one. I don't ever wear that shirt anymore."

"I need my shirt, Geoff," Ryan crossed his arms, real irritation behind the action.

Geoff rolled his eyes, moving to pick up the shirt that had been shoved off the side of his bed when he'd first entered the room. The girl rolled her eyes, glaring at Ryan like he was the asshole here. Ryan had been in a relatively good mood when he entered the room, all things considered, but knowing that Geoff had been up here, making out with some chick— because he didn’t have the courage to stop pining and make a move on Jack— while Ryan was almost getting his ass kicked at a party where he definitely did not want to be, had effectively soured his mood.

"Here," He tossed Ryan the shirt.

"Thanks," Ryan responded tersely, catching it and turning to leave.

"Are you leaving?"

"Yes, Geoff."

"You don't want a ride home?"

"No, Geoff."

"No need to be an asshole about it," Geoff muttered.

Ryan whipped around, a fire burning in his chest, fueled by too many nights being coaxed into too many parties where he was always inevitably abandoned by his supposed friend, "Fuck off, Geoff!"

Geoff sputtered, mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find the right words, "You know, you've been a dick lately! Just a complete fucking asshole! Avoiding me and Jack! Now this! After all I've fucking done for you!!"

"All you've done for me?! You barely fucking know me Geoff!! Nine years— Nine fucking years of friendship and you don't even know that I'm fucking gay! The only thing you've done is make me feel fucking miserable about myself!" Things Ryan had been bottling for a while came tumbling out.

Geoff's eyes went wide, his mouth forming an o shape for a moment, but then all of the words seemed to fully process, "Fuck you, Ryan. All you've done since we met is fucking complain. You whine whine whine all fucking day and do nothing to solve your goddamn problems yourself. You’re a shit friend. Go fuck yourself. Get the fuck out of my room."

"Gladly."

Ryan ran. He didn't fucking care— couldn't care, because he was just so tired and frustrated and so fucking angry. Down the stairs and onto the front lawn, where he slowed his pace— because he didn't want to seem suspicious— but once he was clear of the house, he ran like it was the only thing he could do. By the time he got home, he was bordering on passing out, wheezing for air, leaned over with his hands on his knees. Exhaustion hit like a brick and climbing the tree next to his bedroom window suddenly seemed a lot more dangerous than sneaking past his father's study, but Ryan was angry and he knew his footsteps would be heavy and he reeked of beer. 

Eyes heavy, Ryan struggled up the tree, long limbs only serving to get in the way when they usually made climbing the damn tree a hell of a lot easier. His grip was clumsy, bark scraping against his palms as he moved, and he wanted to just yell at the world because climbing trees in skinny jeans was not fun. But he didn't cry.

No, Ryan didn't cry— not until the stupid skinny jeans were in his dirty clothes pile and the stupid shirt was washed and he lay in his stupid bed, finding faces that weren't actually there in the stupid ceiling. 

Ryan broke because everything felt so fucking stupidly wrong and Geoff's stupid fucking words wouldn't stop playing on repeat in Ryan's stupid brain and Ryan was just so fucking tired.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed. the more feedback, the more motivated i am. also, please let me know if you find any mistakes that i missed.


End file.
